The Red
by Glamagirl
Summary: For the last couple of months, CM Punk has been toying with Randy's mind. But now that his efforts finally paid off he finds out that the results are not exactly what he was expecting.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anyone in this story, all characters belong to themselves and as the voices inside my head tell me, to one another.

**A/N: **I've tried to make this story work with other pairings but none of them seemed to work, but then I started to think on ways to keep it going and these two came to my mind immediately, so with some changes here it is. **WARNING**! This story will turn to be kind of dark, it will have some violence, foul language and other adult situations, so if that is not your cup of tea please turn around and run out of here. I don't think it will become like too graphic and the violence is not extreme, but I still need to warn you so here it is.

**The Red**

The first thought to cross his mind when he woke up was that his head was pounding. It was really bad, the pain strong enough to make him wince and he was sure that the reason he was hurting so much was because his brain had swollen and his skull wasn't providing the space it needed to grow. But what was his brain if not insistent? It needed the space so it beat unmercifully against the reduced space, menacing to crack his head open and spill all over.

For a wild moment of blind irrationality he was afraid for his brain, so wanting to act before it was too late he tried to place both hands over his head; he wanted to prevent a disaster and he wanted to keep his thinking machine safe and inside his skull. The only problem was that he failed in his attempt as his hands only came half the way, stopping abruptly before they could lift pass his shoulders.

Deeming it odd, the WWE superstar known as CM Punk blinked his eyes open, his olive green orbs finding his vision to be fuzzy and unfocused. The motion also sent a new bolt of pain right into his skull and he had to close his eyes again, waiting until the pain started to fade away into a dull throb.

But that dull throb was still bad, it felt as if there was someone behind him using his head as a personal tambourine, beating in a slow but steady pace…

Maybe he was going to need aspirin for this one, but first he needed to move his arms. With that in mind he drew in a deep breath and put all his might into lifting his arms once more, and just like before they stopped midway before they were yanked back.

He grunted in frustration and his head rolled to the side, feeling like it was too heavy for him to hold up. That only added to his list of nuisances, a killer headache, numb arms, sore throat… he hated feeling so bad.

Keeping his eyes shut, the Chicago native forced his mind to go back to the last thing he could remember. He has been at the arena for Extreme Rules, he remembered going out to the ring to have his match and he remembered going to the EMTs after it to check his battered back; after that he took a quick shower, grabbed his stuff and made it to the parking lot to head back to hotel… that was a far as he could remember…

He opened his eyes again and even when it hurt him to do so he forced them to stay open, he wanted to know where he was and most importantly, how did he get there.

Through heavy lidded eyes he spied before him a poorly lit room that would have been bare if it wasn't for a big wooden table standing alone in the middle of the room. It looked huge in the empty space and for a few minutes he just stared at the simplicity of it; it was only when the room stopped moving in circles that he began to scan the room more throughfully.

There were no windows that he could see and when he tried to move his head to the side to look for the door he couldn't move it, it hurt too much.

"It was about time you woke up."

At the sound of that familiar voice, Punk's head jerked up. There was pain in the motion but it was secondary to recognition. He knew that voice and he didn't like one bit that he was hearing it.

Squinting his eyes, Punk cleared his throat, his vision taking in the form of a silhouette standing in a corner of the room. He hadn't seen him until now and he deduced that he missed him because he was standing in the shadows, his face a dark mask hidden in obscurity.

Good thing that he didn't need to see him to know who he was. The question was what the hell was going on?

"What the fuck is this?" He asked feeling groggy as he looked down at his hands to find each one tied to a rope that disappeared somewhere behind him…

That wasn't good at all and he started to feel apprehensive. Whatever was going on, he was sure fucked up.

But he wasn't going to show to that other man the apprehension in him, so with a calm that he had to force on himself he yanked in slow motion at the ropes. Nothing happened, so he looked once more to the man, realizing maybe for the first time since waking up that he was sitting in the floor with his back resting against a cold wall while the other man was standing, his towering presence giving the appearance of being bigger than what he really was.

"Get this fucking ropes off of me." He said, his tone too demanding to his ears.

"And why… should I do that, Phil?" The man asked, his tone coming off as eerie and detached as he took three steps out of the corner to stand under the yellow flickering light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Punk grinded his teeth and clenched his jaw, he didn't like that the taller man was taking the liberty of calling him by his given name and he didn't like that he had him tied up to a wall.

Where the fuck was his New Nexus?

"What? Punk with nothing to say, aww I'm disappointed, I was expecting more from you, I wanted more from you."

The older tattooed man blinked and took a deep breath, trying to think of a way out of the situation. But he came up blank, yeah, he was also disappointed with himself, after all he had always been proud of the way he could use his wits in any situation but that night his head was hurting too much for him to think straight.

"If you let me go now, I swear I won't beat you up too bad, Randal."

Just as the last word rolled out of Punk's tongue, the tallest of the two hurried to his side and kicked him hard in the stomach. The force of the blow knocked all the air out of his lungs and he had to double over, coughing and feeling more confused than ever.

"You couldn't beat me in the ring so what makes you think you can beat me up now?" The man said in a hiss, crouching down at his side to yank at his hair and thus forcing him look into the steel depths of his grey eyes. After saying that he slammed Punk's head back against the wall and got to his feet.

Punk groaned, his vision blacking out for a few seconds as confusion turned to pain and then to anger. What the fuck was going on? Did Randy attacked him after the show and brought him there? It seemed so, but what for?

With his head lolling to the side, the Straight Edge Superstar pulled at his arms as hard as he could, but as hard as he pulled they were still holding him in place and his need to retaliate was killed by impotence.

"Forget about beating you up, I'm going to fucking kill you, you stupid son of a bitch!" He yelled, lifting his head just in time to see the other man walk out through a door. He didn't close it so he opened his mouth and yelled after him once more. "Hey, untie me and try that again you, I swear you won't have the same luck you stupid fuck!" Yelling intensified his headache but he didn't care. He was seeing red now. "Come back here!"

There was no answer and the only sound was the one of his head cracking open… he could hear it…

"Shit." He hissed through clenched teeth, wanting nothing more than get his hands up to nurse his head, after that he would take care of Randy. "I told you to come back here, can't you hear me? Or is it that are you deaf as well as stupid?"

Anger overcoming pain, Phil stared intently at the door, waiting for the man to show up, but when the man he was waiting for finally crossed the door he couldn't help but to hold his tongue.

At the sight of Randy stepping into the room with a kendo stick in one hand, Punk felt an alarm clock ringing inside his head, there was something very wrong going on there and he didn't think he could easily escape it unscratched. Randy was obviously in full psycho mode and he was going to get off on him.

He swallowed hard, trying to untie his wrist from their bondage but unable to. There was no way, he was fucked and he knew it. Resigned and tilting his head to the side, the black headed man smiled a cynical smile, "I see you are giving up the pretense of being the Randy Orton the fans adore… wish they could see you now, using low tactics, being a coward sick fuck by tying me up as a way to get to me…"

Yeah, he wished the world could see the real Randy as he had always seen him. Unfortunately they couldn't, and as the taller man slowly walked towards him he couldn't help but to wonder what had triggered the detonator for Orton to go back to his old ways.

Was it him? For the last couple of months he has been working with Orton's psyche, trying to expose him as he really was, trying to tear down once and for all the wrong conception the WWE Universe had of him. But no one wanted to hear him out, the WWE Universe suffered from a short term memory and they decided to back up their beloved Viper until the very end.

And he thought that their end was that night, after all Randy was drafted to Smackdown last week and he remained on Raw, meaning that he had to cut off his intents too short and without getting the result he was looking for.

But no, apparently Randy was not done with him, he wasn't done with the intense match they had earlier that night and he wanted more.

"You know, you talk too much for a man that can't do anything other than getting his ass kicked over and over again."

"Yeah? Well untie me and I'll show you what I can do." He said because really, what else could he do when he couldn't even break free on his own? Both his wrists already felt chafed and raw with his efforts and he hadn't managed a thing.

While his mind tried to digest everything that was going on, Randy crouched down in front of him and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his face to his so he could press his forehead against the other man's. "I saw what you could do and I'm not impressed, Phil. As it turned out you are all talk and no action."

Punk snarled his lips, his olive colored eyes fixing on Randy's greys as the grip on his hair intensified. "I'll kill you, let's see how that suits you."

Pushing his nose against Punk's, Randy smiled, his teeth showing between his lips as he slowly moved his head from side to side. "And who are you going to do that?"

Phil thought that Randy was too fucking close, he could even feel the warmness of his breath against his face and he didn't feel comfortable about that… "Untie me, and I'll show you."

With the smile still on his lips and with his face inches away from the older man's, Randy snickered. "Do you think I'm stupid? I'm not one of your puppets that you can move around as you like; no, I'm fucking Randy Orton and your bullshit doesn't work with me."

Randy's voice sounded like a low growl stuck in his throat and Punk couldn't help but to swallow on dry. Randy fucking Orton… what was he doing now? Without tearing his eyes away, the Chicago native smiled a twisted smile and breathed in. "I would say that my bullshit is working, otherwise you wouldn't have me tied here. I made you lose your cool, so even though you got the best of me tonight, I'm still the real winner and you, Orton, you are the loser."

Taking him by surprise, Randy used the grip he had on Phil's head and slammed it against the wall. It was the second time he did that and he had no choice but to close his eyes and hiss his pain away.

"Still feel like a winner, uh?" With that said, the Legend Killer closed the short distance that separated him from his number one enemy and crashed his lips against his.

The act took Punk by surprise and his eyes immediately flew open as he tried in vain to lift his hands up to push the younger man away. But the ropes around his wrists were too tight and he couldn't do a thing but moving his head to the side, escaping Randy's lips for a few seconds so he could gasp in surprise. "What the fuck are you doing? You stupid piece of…"

Before he could continue, Randy grabbed Phil by the hair once again and moved him back against his face, capturing his lips one more time and forcing his tongue to break past the younger man's lips so he could invade the wet cave of his mouth.

It all happened too fast; Randy's minted taste filling him in, the sensation of his tongue moving like a snake bursting with sweet venom against his… his hand refusing to let go of his hair.

It was insane; Randy's kiss was not gentle or sweet, he was hungrily devouring the Straight Edge superstar mouth as he ravaged his lips, and as much as he tried to, Phil couldn't help but to react to the kiss.

It wasn't weird to him, he had always liked things a little rough and Randy was giving him rough. That he hated the man and all he represented? Yes, but he was only human and he had never denied to himself that Orton provoked more in him than repressed ire and frustration.

Besides, it has been such a long time since the last time someone got to kiss him like that…

But no, even though Randy was kissing him senseless and that his body liked it, he couldn't forget the situation he was in. He was tied to a wall, his body was beaten up by their match earlier that night and he didn't think that Randy was up to any good; so with that in mind, Phil used his teeth to bite Randy's tongue away from his mouth.

The younger man's reaction was immediate; he pulled away from Phil's lips with a groan and then smacked him across the face. Phil groaned as well and shut his eyes, the force of the impact Randy inflicted on him making him wince in pain. "You fucking bitch, you bit me!"

For a moment Phil remained like that, unmoving as his head throbbed uncomfortable; his lips swollen and his mind racing a thousand miles per second.

What was going on?

He wanted to ask that, but when he opened his eyes he noticed that he was alone in the room. Randy was gone with his kendo stick and he was left behind, tied up and feeling more confused than ever.

TBC?


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews on this one, I really appreciate it. The warning continues the same, hope you enjoy ;)

**ThE ReD: Chapter 2**

The notions of time and space were all distorted in his head; he didn't know where he was and he had no idea how long he has been there. All he knew was that his body was stiff and cramping all over from sitting in the same position for so long and that he was feeling both tired and thirsty.

In a few words he was feeling like shit, and that was without mentioning the fact that he was confused as fuck as well as in pain. Things were plain and simple not looking good, and as much as he tried to think of a way out, so far he had come up with nothing.

He was just fucked up and he knew it.

Ah, but things would be better and he would be singing a different song if he could only manage to free his hands; and he has tried so many times by now, but the thing was that they were securely tied to the wall behind him and he had failed in every attempt of breaking free. Now there was nothing left for him to do but sit there and wait to see how it was all going to play for him.

He just hoped things wouldn't go _too_ bad on him…

As timed passed by and his apprehension started to dwindle down to transform into confusion, the Straight Edge wrestler has been thinking a lot, his mind playing with different scenarios about how things could go with Orton as a captor. Some of those scenarios ranged from the very ridiculous to the most macabre and it was hard to separate what was worst. It was all just too insane, almost to the point of laughing and as much as his mind tried to grasp it, he still had no idea what was going on or what could happen next time the Viper came into the room.

Blinking slowly, he moved his head from side to side as a method of staying awake, he was feeling a bit drowsy and the last thing he needed was to fall asleep in the precarious situation he was into; he didn't want to wake up to another surprise.

Last time has been bad enough; killer headache, tied up and at the mercy of a mad man. He couldn't see how that could be surpassed. In fact he couldn't understand how he came to be in that situation in the first place, of all the things he has gone through, being kidnapped by Orton had to be the most ridiculous and yet the most fucked up… at least in the sense that he was helpless and he had no clue on what to expect.

The man was clearly out of it; he kidnapped him, he tied him up and then… well, after manhandling him for a while he kissed him like very few had kissed him. He was still confused about that and all that he could come up to was with the idea that something snapped in Randal's mind at some point during their match and voila, there was the result.

Psycho Randy was back and he got him… the prey had become the predator.

Now, he wouldn't even try to deny that the kiss had disconcerted him to certain extent because if truth be told that was the last thing he had ever expected from the younger man and his mind was still turning the event all around, trying to understand it.

Did he do it a method of punishment or to mess him up? He knew the old Randy Orton liked to fuck up with people's minds, but if he had kissed him with that intention he was even crazier than what he thought, because quite frankly he kind of liked the kiss and it hadn't disturbed him in the sightless.

It was like this, for the last couple of years, CM Punk has been watching Orton with the sharp eyes of a predator. He had studied his every move as he waited for the time he could execute his revenge and well, with all that watching and studying he kind of developed an unhealthy obsession with The Legend Killer. He just couldn't help it, as wicked as he knew the other man was, Punk couldn't deny that The Viper was a very fine specimen and in more than one occasion he had found himself appreciating him in ways he had no right to do.

Not that he had in mind to do something about it, he disliked him too much for that; but even though, more often than not he would stare at him as he walked down the ramp, noticing how the icy steel of his eyes would penetrate his olive green ones in ways that were definitely not PG. Not only that, he also took pleasure in watching the perfection and gracefulness of his movements and above anything, he really really enjoyed getting in the ring with him. There was nothing like the body to body combat the two of them always had to feel the full intensity of Randy Orton.

So yeah, the kiss did surprise him, but in all honesty he liked it more than he should. But it still made him feel confused and he wanted to know what was really going on through Randy's intricate mind.

"Hey, Randal!" He called out loud even if talking was making his throat hurt. "Come the fuck back here."

There was no immediate response and Punk groaned, flexing his fingers and once again trying to break free of the ropes. He put all his might on in, holding his breath, biting hard on his lips, pulling as hard as he could and thus making his face turn a crimson red. It took him a while, but for his efforts and the pain the rope caused him, the reward was that his hand slid out all the way to his fingers.

"Fuck yeah." He chuckled in victory, bringing the hand up to his face so he could inspect it with care. It was chafed; the skin around his wrist was raw with the marks of his now none existent boundaries and it stung like hell. It didn't matter, what Randy was going to get by his hands now was going to be ten times worse and he couldn't wait to serve him a good dose of his own medicine.

Smirking, Punk went to take the other rope around his wrist off; now with one of his hands free it was going to be easier to do it so he began trying to untie it with his own fingers.

As he was working with that, the distinct sound of the door being open resonated all through the room and he felt his spirit drop to the ground, because before he could get both his hands completely free, Randy walked back into the room.

Orton didn't say anything as he walked in, but he was holding the kendo stick in one hand, a plastic bag in the other and a sly smirk on his lips. Punk wondered what he was up to now.

"Missed me too much and came back for me?" He said, trying to win some time as he hid both his hands behind his back as he tried to untie himself. "You know, Randal…" He paused, tilting his head up and broadening his lips in a dark smile. "Of all the things I could think about you, I would never have imagined that you had the hots for me. What can I say, I'm kind of flattered."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Orton walked to him and connected his knee to Punk's nose. The pain was immediate and he grunted, feeling a warm flood pouring from his nose while a throb took over the affected area.

The Chicago native closed his eyes and breathed in through his mouth. "Fuck you." He growled, aware that he almost brought his hand up to nurse his nose. He almost screwed up and he had to fight the urge to punch the younger man right in the face.

Randy didn't mind Punk's rotten mood; he just knelt by his side and grabbed him by the hair. "Don't flatter yourself, Punk." He jerked his head to him and got close to his face, close enough to kiss him, but instead of doing that he shoved him back, connecting his skull with the wall.

"Mother fucker, I'll fucking kill you." He hissed in pain, clenching his teeth as Randy took a firm hold of his hair.

"Is that all you have? A bunch of empty threats that you know damn well that you won't be able to fulfill. You are a pathetic."

Phil shook his head out of Randy's hold, his eyes closed and his breathing hard… he was trying to control the pain in his head but it was impossible, the impact made him feel dizzy and the pain was bordering in intolerable. "Fuck. Off."

He felt his jaw being grabbed and the next thing he knew was that Randy's lips were on his. It wasn't a kiss this time, Randy just bit and tugged on his lower lip with his teeth before drawing back.

Opening his eyes, Punk stared intently at Orton, his olive green eyes full of repressed ire. He knew he could use his right hand to retaliate against Orton, but his other hand was still tied up and the element of surprise could only take him so far… besides, he didn't want Orton to know he managed to get one of his hands free. Not yet.

But his feet were another thing so snarling, he used his trained legs and kicked Randy on the side. It worked, he managed to hit Randy hard enough to make him buckle, but he also made him angry and before he knew it, the grey eyed man grabbed him and went back to hitting his head against the wall.

He repeated the motion one, two and then three times, making Phil feel like he was going to pass out. The pain was unbearable and he started to see everything around him blurry.

"Try that again, and I'll fucking put this through your skull."

Punk didn't know what Randy wanted to put through his skull but he did feel another knee to the nose and he wondered how much abuse his face and head could take. It didn't feel like it could take much more and he made a mental note to himself about trying to keep his mouth shut.

The pain he was in now wasn't worth it. He just needed to concentrate on getting free of the rope…

He opened his eyes and through heavy lids he saw that Randy was sitting on the floor, he had the plastic bag he brought with him on his lap and he was taking a few things out.

"And to think I bought a few things for you." After saying that, Orton took a bottle of Pepsi, a bottle of José Cuervo's tequila and something that looked like a sub sandwich. "Now instead of this, you'll probably get this one." He shrugged pointing at the Pepsi and then at the tequila. "Let's see how much you like it."

Punk squinted his eyes, watching in silence as his captor opened the bottle of Tequila while slowly licking his teeth. To the Straight Edge man that didn't look good and he didn't like the look on Orton's face as he looked back at him. So, knowing that something was up with the other man he swallowed his pain away so his voice wouldn't sound too strained. "What are you doing?"

Randal tilted his head to the side and smiled deviously. "Nervous? Don't be, we are just going to play a little game here… and depends on how good you behave, I'll either feed you… or, I'll get you drunk."

That was all Punk needed to get his mood in full anger mode; who the fuck did Orton think he was? "You listen to me, you stupid mother fucker, if you…"

Before he could finish talking, Randy took the bottle of tequila, rose it up and poured a small amount over Punk's head. "No, you listen to me! I don't know if you noticed but I'm the one in charge here and what I say is what we will do. This is just you and me, there's no Nexus to save your ass out of this and your fucked up mind games won't work with me. Now shut the fuck up unless you want me to pour this fucking thing down your throat."

Punk was furious, in his mind he could feel that his eyes grew too huge for his face and he was sure that the vein in his temple was going to pop out anytime now. But still, he didn't say anything and stood still under the intense stare of Randy Orton, and as he stared back with the same intensity, he could feel the tequila sliding down his face and back.

That only aggravated his anger and he had to clench his fist hard against his back just not to bring it up against Randy's face.

The son of a bitch, he was going to get him and he was going to get him so good…

"That's much, much better, Phil." Randy said while putting the tequila down on the floor. "But, you still have to work to get this other stuff so why don't you open that mouth of yours and earn it. I want to know if that mouth is good for something more than trash talking."

With that said, Orton got to his feet and with his eyes glued to the older man's, he started to unbutton and unzip his jeans.

"But get this into your head, you bite me, and I'll punt you in the skull so hard you won't even wake up from this one… and that, Punk, will only be the beginning…"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Remember that nice warning I put at the beginning of this story? Well, that warning is in full effect from now on. To those who want to keep reading, hope you enjoy and as always, thanks to those who review! Reviews make me want to keep writing more… *hint* ;-p

**ThE ReD: Chapter 3**

Phillip Jack Brooks, the man better known around the wrestling industry as CM Punk has gone through a lot of things during the thirty-two years of his life; things that ranged from being simply ridiculous to the most bizarre and extreme.

So yeah, his life never had been easy and he could say that he started to experience the hardships of life since his days as a scrawny kid with a big mouth and a cutting attitude in the streets of Chicago; but even though he started early, there was no denying that the most intense moments he had experienced, more often than not happened in the ring.

It has been in the square circle where he has been beaten senseless more times than he cared to count, where he has been humiliated right in front of a live audience, where he has gotten his skull cracked open and where he has known betrayals as well as deceptions.

Sure, he knew that a lot of those things were a direct result of the way he carried himself, after all he was the first to admit that he was a hard pill to swallow and most of the things that happened to him were well deserved.

It was like this, he knew he wasn't well liked outside the reduced circle of friends he had back home and he was more than aware that throughout the years he had made more enemies than he could count. He was always the black sheep everywhere he went and even though he lived clean and focused, people always catalogued him as a bad influence.

Not that he minded, he was used to it and he didn't care, on the contrary, he liked to live up to the hype and he was always looking on ways to surpass himself. His motto was that if he wasn't getting heat, then he was doing something wrong.

But, of all the things he has gone through, he could say without any doubt whatsoever that he has never, ever before thought that his actions could eventually lead him to that precise moment he was living.

Clenching his teeth and closing his eyes, the Straight Edge superstar moved his head to the side and snarled his lips. "Take that thing off my face or I swear I'll rip it off and make you eat it."

"Try anything funny, and I'll put this thing through your skull and all the way out your throat." Randy said, his voice a low growl that barely escaped pass his lips.

Punk didn't respond, instead he used the fingers of his free hand to make another attempt to loosen up the rope that still held his other hand tied to the wall. He tried to do it without Randy noticing, but he was aware that would be a hard thing to accomplish since the other man was looking at him intently.

"I said, open your mouth."

Punk shook his head and pursed his lips, feeling as Orton tried to push his fucking limp cook into his mouth once again. All of it was definitely another experience to add to his repertory, what he didn't know was how to catalogue it. Bizarre, denigrating or just fucked up?

At first he couldn't believe it, even when part of his mind tried to warn him about what was to come he simply didn't believe it. He knew Randy could be and do a lot of things, but this?

So yeah, when Randy started to take off his belt and unzip his pants before sliding them down his legs he had watched in a mix of anticipation and disbelief while his mind battled with his common sense about to do.

Should he have started calling him a sick fucking pervert or should he plain and simply open his mouth like a good boy to take whatever Orton wanted him to take? Because yeah, he couldn't lie, even when things were starting to get more fucked up, a sick and perverted part of his own inner being sent a tingling sensation straight into his groin as his eyes took on the sight of Randy Orton grabbing his dick out of pants as an offering to him.

Ah, but that has been just a tiny inner part of himself, because overall what his mind was telling him was that he should bring his free hand forward and yank at Orton's cock until he could hear the flesh tearing up.

He didn't do that, that would only take him so far so he just closed his mouth tight shut and started to untie his other hand.

While he tried to free himself of all boundaries, he felt something hitting him at the side of his head and a sharp pain took over him. It made him grunt, but he didn't for the live of him opened his mouth.

"Open your fucking mouth."

Feeling his head throbbing, Punk opened his eyes and looked up at Randy's face. The younger man was standing over him, his lips curled into a snarl and the coldness of his grey eyes looking down on him.

"No." He said, barely opening his mouth to respond.

"Alright then, perhaps I should get you drunk first. So, shall I bring the booze now? I have all day long here and sooner or later I'm sure I can make you swallow the entire bottle empty. What do you say?"

Punk sent Randy a look that could kill. Quite honestly that comment made him feel even more pissed than what he already was as he just plain and simple didn't like being threatened, but he also remembered how Orton had poured some of that tequila over his head a minute ago. Hell, he could still smell it on him and he sure as fuck didn't want to taste it.

Swallowing on dry, the Raw superstar weighed his options; his left hand was about to slide free, he only needed a little bit of more time to work on that, but if Randy kept an acute eye on him or worse, if he kept hitting him or forced him to drink, his plan of breaking free was going to crumble before he could execute it. So, with that in mind and clenching both his hands into fists, he slowly opened his mouth.

He needed to distract Orton for a bit… but just for a bit…

Randy's response was immediate, with a hard push he hissed and forced his manhood right pass Punk's lips. He went all the way in, filling the older man with his strong musky taste until his lips were touching his pubic bone. "See, that's so much better, isn't it?"

For that, Punk had no response so he just remained in his spot, working on the ropes while his mouth hung wide open and Randy's hardening member started to slide against his tongue, giving him room to breathe.

It was strange, but feeling the man grow from bland to hard in his mouth was really something else…

Now, he would be lying if he said he lived his life in celibacy so no, this wasn't the first time he experienced something of the like. But this was different, this Randy Orton, a man he has been obsessing over for months, a man who's guts he despised and his damn cock was in his mouth, growing harder and harder until he couldn't take him all in.

Also, there was no denying that if you ignored his personality and wicked ways, Randy Orton was beyond perfect, he had a body sculpted in hard muscles but even though his flesh was smooth to the touch, his feline movements were intriguing, his eyes penetrating and there was something about his smirk that would make anyone drop their pants or panties just by the sight of it.

So yeah, Randy was appealing to all his senses and his body couldn't help but to take a little pleasure on what was going on; but even though, he was also aware that there was a big difference in blowing him because he wanted to and doing it by force. Besides, it has been such a long time for him that he was feeling rather odd.

His most recent history could be traced back to the time of him and the Hardy Boy and that was over a year now; then he jumped to Serena and as recently his only encounter has been Justin Gabriel and Heath going down on him in the showers before running back towards Barrett.

It wasn't much, he knew it but he didn't mind, he was proud of the auto control he inflicted upon himself from time to time and he knew that if he got desperate he could always pick someone from the New Nexus and be done with it.

But, since he has been too busy obsessing over Orton, he barely had time to think about it. Besides, since he started to feud with the Viper he had found himself sneaking to the showers after each of their matches and alleviating his most mundane needs with the image or the third generation superstar in his mind.

Was he being sick? No… Randy was the one being sick in that moment.

"You like that, don't you?" Orton asked and Punk lifted his eyes to him, his tongue flickering around the crown of Randy's cock swiftly until the younger of the two drew in a shaky breath. "I've seen you watching me, you don't think I notice but I've seen you…"

Keeping his eyes on him, Punk closed his lips over the now impossible hard-on and applied a bit of suction. Randy was right, he has been watching him with the eyes of an eagle, trying to figure him out, to tear down the cold wall he has built around himself until he finally broke through it.

Fuck yeah broke it, because if there was something he was sure was that he got into Orton's mind like no other and his result was this; the man practically kidnapped him, tied him up real nice and was now forcing him to suck his dick.

What would you call that if not getting into his skin and beyond?

Sure, Punk never thought it would come to that but now that it had he was going to turn the tables around and make the best out of it. So, blinking slowly, his olive green eyes locked up with Randy's grey orbs and he began to work his magic, running his tongue through the length of his enemy's cock, suctioning all that he could into his mouth, sucking around the head and tasting a few salty drops of pre-cum as Randy's face started to flush and his breathing started to sound ragged.

"Fuck yeah, I always knew you wanted to do that." Orton breathed out and his tongue briefly darted out to lick his pointy eye teeth while his lips curved into a wicked smile. "So good-"

Fucked up as it was, Punk could feel his own cock stirring to life and protesting inside his pants as his eyes fixed on Randy's. It was almost obscene, the two of them locking eyes while he sucked the other man for all he was worth it. He couldn't deny that there was something oddly exciting about the whole thing, Randy tasted as good as he looked and his moans came off as slutty and appealing.

He couldn't wait for the unsuspecting man to reach the edge, especially since he was finally able to slide his other hand out of the rope so he was now officially free of any bondage.

But still, he kept doing his thing, his eyes and all his senses taking on the fact that Randy was no longer holding the kendo stick he had promised to put through his skull and that now his hands were instead holding his head in place as his hips started to buck forward, sending his dick almost to the back of his throat.

He fought the urge to gag and stretched his jaw, the sound of Randy's throaty moans and unimportant chatter filling the air as his hands moved away from his back, extending forward until he got hold of the kendo stick.

For a while he just held to it, his fingers curling around it in a tight grasp until Randy started to spasm and the first spurs of his seed were shot against his tongue and down his throat.

He almost choked on it, as a rule he was always the one cumming in people's mouths and he wasn't used to the strong taste and the dark and mysterious smell invading him… but he kind of liked it and he took a moment to savor it all before he lifted his hand up and got ready.

In a matter of nothing and spiting Randy out of his mouth, Punk used the element of surprise and hit him full force on the shoulder.

The impact made Randy groan out loud, but this time his groan wasn't one of pleasure but one of pain and surprise, then before he could recuperate Punk fought his way to his feet and hit him once more over his head. "You stupid mother fucker, you thought you could get the best of me, uh? Surprise surprise, you didn't."

Hitting him one more time with the kendo stick, Punk watched as Orton fell to the ground and hissed his pain away, closing his eyes as his hand clutched at his head. To Punk, the moment was unique, he could beat Orton unconscious, he could force his feet to get the fuck out of that place or… he could play the same mind game Randy wanted to play with him.

Smirking and moving his head from side to side, the Chicago native wiped at his mouth and kicked Randy's ribs as hard as he could; then, with the same calm the other man had used before he started to take off his belt and unzip his pants.

Randy barely took notice of this, he was still on the floor grunting while Punk eyed him down and the next thing he felt was Punk hovering over him, grabbing his head and smacking it two times against the concrete.

The Legend Killer mumbled something under his breath, something that Punk took no notice as he was too busy quickly sliding Randy's jeans and boxers down his legs so he could easily accommodate himself in a position where his hard and throbbing erection could have access to the tight opening exposed to him.

"Let's see how you like this now," He hissed through clenched teeth, pushing as hard as he could until he broke right into Randy's passage. Randy's response was a hoarse cry of pain as his eyes flew open to furiously stare into Punk's eyes.

His breathing becoming hard, the green eyed man shut his mouth and concentrated instead of pumping into Randy hard but not too fast, because wicked as it was he wanted to enjoy the moment and fuck, what a moment!

Randy was tight, almost to a point where it was impossible for him to move with ease and the feeling of his inner muscles strangling his erection as he moved inside of him was almost enough to make him cum before his time. It was better than whatever he could have imagined and he found himself entranced with the darkening flickering eyes of the Viper.

"This… is much better, isn't Randal, isn't it?" He panted, his fingers digging into the flesh of the younger man's tight as he held them up in the air.

Grunting, Randy grabbed the back of Punk's head and brought him close to his face. "Fuck you."

Punk couldn't help it, at Randy's words he grinned maliciously, sliding almost all the way out of Orton and then slamming back in. The sensation was mind blowing and it got even better when Randy moaned out loud. It was so good that he felt his cock jerk at the sound of it. "No Randy, fuck you."

After saying that, he repeated the motion, Randy's hard breathing mixing up with his as his hips kept punishing thrust after thrust. Randy's eyes were now closed and his face showed nothing but pure distress, but he wasn't making a move to stop Punk and thus Punk kept fucking him raw until his pace started to feel erratic.

He was so close…

"So tell me, Randal, how much do you like my cock fucking you like this? I bet you love it." And of that he was sure, after all he could feel against his stomach that the no so little prick was hard as a rock again and as a treat he began to create some friction as he moved against him. See? He wasn't such an egoistical ass...

Randy opened his eyes, his hand was still curled at the back of Punk's head and he used it to bring him even closer, so close that their noses were touching. "As much as you liked my cock in your mouth, bitch."

Punk laughed, "Bitch? Let's see who's the bitch."

With that being said, Punk pushed Randy's tights farther apart and his rhythm picked up to its maximums, making Randy trash wildly beneath him and consequentially making him reach the peak once again. The sight was too much, Randy's flushed face, his eyes dark and wild and his lips parted and breathing hard. That right there made Punk loose it and with a deep throaty moan he pushed all the way in until he spilled his hot seed deep inside the other man, marking him with his essence.

It was insane, his mind became a fuss while he felt Randy's tongue running down his jaw as his teeth bit on his skin, and then, before he could ride down off his wave, he felt a hard blow to the head that made him black out…

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the nice reviews, they are deeply appreciated. Now, I know this story is kind of wicked… but my muses are the ones pushing me around to write it ;)

_**The Red 4**_

CM Punk was used to wake up in pain. It has been like that since the day he started wrestling over a decade ago and as the years flew by he came to realize that time only made things worse.

Looking back at it, he was sure that it all started in those initial weeks where at the end of each day his muscles would ache all over like never before; then when months turned into those first years he found out that the pain continued to his knees, moved up to his back and then extended over every bone in his body, leaving him an aching mass of flesh and bones.

In his mind it was like this, the more experience he got and the better he became, the worse it was for him to drag himself out of bed every morning.

Sometimes the pain was so bad that he would wake up grunting and thinking that he was too old already and that the best he could do was quit wrestling altogether and leave the pain behind, after all he had pushed his body way beyond the limits of comfort and he needed time to heal.

But that was only sometimes, just when the pain was too much for his mere mortal body to bear; but overall the pain didn't bother him as much as some people would think and with time he learnt to embrace it as part of himself.

Sure, he couldn't deny that it was a… well, a pain, but it was what it was and he couldn't see himself _not_ wrestling.

But that day when he first opened his eyes, the first thought that ran through his mind was that he was indeed too old for that shit and that his body was resenting him for all the years of abuse it had endured. That day there wasn't a part of him that wasn't aching and what was worse, there was not a single thing he could do about it as all his limbs felt like rubber and he doubted that he could gather enough strength to stand up.

He just didn't have it in him. He even felt like he was shaking all over.

Closing his eyes again and shutting out his blurry vision, the Straight Edge Superstar rolled his head to the side and winced; he was feeling almost as bad as the day he cracked his skull open and the pain was very close to unbearable.

It could only get worse if he all of a sudden began to puke. Not that a thing like that could happen, he was running on an empty stomach and he deduced that was part of the reason he was feeling so week.

So yeah it was that bad, and he would curse and complain about it if he could… in fact he wanted to, but something in the back of his head was telling him to keep his silence or things could get worse than they already were.

"Are you planning on sleeping all the day off, I never thought you were the lazy kind, Phil."

Punk heard the voice alright and yes, he recognized it as Randy's own, but even though he decided not to reply to him or even open his eyes. It would hurt his head too much and even if he at least managed to get something out of the younger man before getting knocked out cold, Orton wasn't worth all the pain he has been suffering as of late.

"Come on, you want to give me the cold shoulder now that we are… intimates." Randy snorted, his voice carrying an undertone of amusement that Punk didn't like at all. "I even got this for you. It's not like you deserve it but for now, I'm going to let the past be bygone."

Trying to ignore him, Punk started to wonder how come he didn't run out of the room when he had the chance, after all he had the opportunity to do so and instead of going for it he allowed the most primitive side of him to take over his senses. Instead of running he decided to fuck Randy Orton and that has been his mistake.

Did he enjoy it? But of course; was it worth it over his freedom? Not at all.

Taking in a deep breath, CM Punk opened his eyes to a slit and by doing so he realized that he was in a bathtub. The knowledge for some reason worried him and feeling more alert he realized that the bathtub was full of water. How weird that he didn't recognize the feeling of being submerged in warm water until now.

That worried him… actually, what really worried him was the possibility of Randy pushing his head underneath the water and drowning him there. It would be so easy for him to do it… he was kind of expecting him to do it.

"Do you want to know something?" The younger man said casually and Phil watched him approach towards him. Once near enough, he got down to his knees and with all the calm in the world he inserted one of his hands into the water. "When I knocked you down I had to carry you all the way here… and well, I had to put you in here and while taking all your clothes off and washing you real nice I realized how easy it would be to lay you down and fuck the shit out of you. You wouldn't have even felt a thing."

At his words, Phil closed his eyes and ever so slowly he moved his legs underwater, trying to wake them up and lure them into supporting his weight once he could gather the strength to get up.

"But-" Randy continued, his hand crawling to Phil's lower stomach so his fingers could run smoothly down his pubic bone and finally towards his limp cook. "I didn't want you not to feel a thing and well, I wanted you all cleaned up. You were a mess and as tempting as you were, I would rather have you not smelling like a bloody dirty rat."

Clearing his throat, the Chicago native opened his eyes once again and fixed them on Randy's own. Despite himself and his aching body, what the other man was doing with his hands was provoking a reaction out of him and little by little he could feel himself getting hard under the ministrations. "You didn't seem to mind how I smelled when I caught you off guard and fucked the shit out of you." He groaned, wishing his voice would be more firm and secure.

Orton smiled, licking his lips as he continued to rub Phil's cock into life. "You didn't catch me off guard."

"Ah, so is that why you brought me here, so I could fuck you? Randal, once again… I'm flattered, but if that's all you wanted you should have told me and I would have been more than happy to comply; after all you do have a sweet tight ass I wouldn't mind doing over and over again. You know, since you are getting me ready I can fuck you again, right now."

Sure, he didn't had the strength and he definitely doubted that his body could repeat such an act while he was feeling so bad, but he would be damned if he wouldn't at least try to gain more time by entertaining Orton with a little bit of talking.

He needed time to strategize and to recuperate his energy.

"That's not why I brought you here and trust me, your cock won't be getting near me again." Randy responded and Phil forced his lips to form a smirk.

"It's in your hand right now,"

This time Randy was the one who smirked. "Then enjoy it while it last."

With that being said, Orton closed his hand over his captive's erection and with firm strokes he continued to torment not only Phil's flesh, but also his right mind. It was weird and quite honestly he didn't get it. He didn't get why Randy kidnapped him and he definitely didn't get why he made him blow him off and then allowed him to fuck him silly.

Because thinking about it with a clearer mind, he still believed that he caught Orton off guard back in the other room, but he also believed that once the initial shock was gone Randy could have easily pushed him away instead of letting him finish him off real nice.

So what was going on? What did he want, what did he pretend to achieve with all of it and why the fuck was he now jerking him up?

But most importantly, why wasn't he pushing him away?

He already made the mistake of letting his carnal instincts screw all the effort he put on breaking free of his bondages and he could see himself making the same mistake once again… at least if he didn't stop him.

"You know, rumor backstage is that you are a little fuck that likes screwing people around just because you can. First it was Jeff and everyone knows how bad you fucked him up. I heard you are the reason he went back into that old nasty habit of popping pills down his throat and chasing them down with vodka."

At the mention of that name, Phil snarled his lips and his hand flew to push Randy's own hand away from him. Jeff was a subject out of limits to everyone and he didn't like how it was brought up by the Viper while giving him a hand job.

But his effort to push him away was weak and what Orton did was pick up his rhythm, his hand going up and down and making Phil's balls to tighten up despite himself.

"What, touchy subject?" Orton smirked, his grey eyes sparkling in amusement. "Anyway, I don't know and I don't care about the juice details regarding you and the Hardy boy or the bald chick or what the fuck do I know, the Nexus, the Core or whoever is your boy toy right now; that doesn't matter to me… what matters now is that I'm going to break you in like no one has before; and Punk… trust me on this one;" Randy hissed getting nearer, so near that his lips were pressing against Phil's. "You are going to love every minute of it, you'll love when my cock tears that ass of yours so much that you'll scream my name so hard that the whole world would listen."

Flexing his fingers, Phil took a deep breath and with all the strength he could muster, he pushed his arms up and grabbed Randy by the neck. The movement surprised the younger man alright, but when Punk forced him inside the bathtub he just smiled. "Dream on it. Orton. I'll fuck you a thousand times before you fuck me even once."

"We'll see about that, Phil, we'll see." With that said, Randy closed the distance that separated their lips and while resting all the weight of his lean body against that of Phil's naked one, he kissed him hard and deep.

TBC?


End file.
